


Heart: Beat

by Semiconsciousness



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, The zombie AU no one asked for, Zombie Apocalypse, first-person, inspired by warm bodies a little bit, just a tiny bit, mentions of body injury, survivor! Levi, will add more tags as story progresses, zombie! Eren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27205639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semiconsciousness/pseuds/Semiconsciousness
Summary: The entire situation doesn’t bother me that much. My daily routine is to walk around, moan a little bit to not seem suspicious, eat deserted carcasses, and occasionally bang my head against the wall. Not necessarily in that order.Or: Zombie Eren meets Levi, and chaos ensues.
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 13
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

_ Man, _ I wish I was alive.

It’s been... years, hasn’t it? 3, I believe. I’ve begun to lose track.

3 years since college. 3 years since my part-time job at that pizza place I used to love. 3 years since I’d been living at Armin’s, my ass too broke to find my own place.

3 years since... well. Since this hell.

I’m dead. That’s something I’ve had to accept lately. That I’m not human anymore.

If I’d be taken to the hospital right now, and hooked up to a monitor, the line would be perfectly straight. No curves, no constant beeps indicating signs of life. I’d be clinically defined as  _ dead. _ Deceased. Not-alive.

Woah, you say. That’s crazy.

A long time ago, I’d have agreed. But lately, I’ve reconsidered the word  _ crazy _ . Ever since shit hit the fan a few years back, “normal” isn’t a comfort people rely on anymore. Eating the remains of dead people isn’t normal. Well, it wasn’t, at least. Maybe we were crazy all along.

I’m walking down the road right now as we speak- another abandoned piece of concrete no one uses anymore. I look down to see my pants crusted over with dried blood, my socks torn away at the edges, and my shoes so badly dinged up I can see a toe poking out of the fabric. I don’t bother to get different clothes. All the ones I find are already stained with blood.

There’s moaning coming from an alley not too far off where I’m walking- probably another carcass they found by chance. A gust of wind ruffles my hair, and I take the chance to inhale deeply, closing my eyes. Yep. Definitely deer meat.

Not saying I’m complaining. I’m getting kind of hungry too.

I haven’t had a decent meal in what feels like  _ months. _ Or weeks. Time flies by when you’re part of the undead. I’ve never actually killed someone yet- I feel kind of antsy every time I see someone who’s still breathing. I’ve stuck to eating the remains after my buddies have had their fill. Not the best of strategies, but I’m happy with it.

The entire situation doesn’t bother me that much. My daily routine is to walk around, moan a little bit to not seem suspicious, eat deserted carcasses, and occasionally bang my head against the wall. Not necessarily in that order.

What  _ does _ bother me, though, is that I’m not completely dead.

My body, that’s a lost cause. No heartbeat, no warmth whatsoever. My skin’s as cold as ice, through and through. Strangely, I haven’t started rotting yet, which is... somewhat comforting? 

But  _ me- _ Eren Yeager, the annoying, loud kid who watched too much TV and skipped classes as a hobby- my personality, my weird quirks, and all that jazz- is still here. I’m still me. Except, I’m dead. But not really.

I can talk, too. I figured that out a couple of weeks ago. I was moaning as usual, walking into a deserted apartment, when all of a sudden this guy comes out of nowhere and scares the bejeezus out of me. Seriously. I cursed so loudly Mother Theresa would knock me on the head from the grave. Assuming she resurrected.

The guy, well, he had no time to be surprised at the undead suddenly spouting the s-word from the top of their lungs. He got eaten pretty quick.

I don’t talk to the other dead. I don’t want them to start coming after me either. I’ve seen what they can do, especially in numbers. Hordes of them give me anxiety. In other words, I stick to myself. It’s something I’ve gotten used to.

So I just moan and shuffle around- even though my limbs don’t feel that weak, I haven’t started rotting yet, and my heart still isn’t beating. Confusing, right?

I just try not to think about it that much. It makes my head ache.

I continue my shuffling, the street empty. I walk over a smear of dark red on the concrete, and I kneel, placing my palm on the stain. I bring it up to my nose, smelling it. I scowl as I identify what it is. The scent is stale, but I can still detect the hint of rotting flesh. Blood of the undead. Gross.

I straighten, walking on autopilot as I wipe my hand on my pants, which are already stained past the point of recognition.  _ God, _ I was hungry. I didn’t know why either- zombies didn’t really need to eat. They just threw up whatever their previous meal was.

So why was I so desperately starved?

I look up to see I’ve almost run into a fence. I peer through it, my gaze landing on the expanse of what I recognize as an airport. From this position, it looks huge- the terminal building so large it’s hard to comprehend people actually used it. Planes litter the abandoned runway, most of their bodies broken and abandoned. One jet’s wings look like a broken bird’s, all angles and exposed wiring.

I find a weakness in the fence, and I push through, making sure to close it behind me. I continue to walk, taking in the sight of the abandoned airlines. It looks... depressing. The hollow titanium shells, the rusted metal, the tufts of wire sticking up in the air- it’s like a cemetery.

The wind picks up again, and I’m so shocked that I’m forced to a halt. My eyes widen a bit, and I sniff the air again just to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

Tangy, with a heaviness I can’t help but to recognize.

Human smell. And it wasn’t stale either.

Out of instinct, I start to walk in that direction, my mouth almost drooling. Finally,  _ finally, _ some nice, fresh-

Wait a minute. Hold it. I stop, coming back to my senses. I’m not going to kill anyone, remember? Yes, that’s right. I made a promise.

But... if another zed got to them first, they’d be dead already, right? It’d be a waste to just leave them there for some other  _ things _ to pick up the pieces.

Yes, I’d be civil. I’d stand back and let the dead do their thing. If they survived, great. But if they didn’t...

I shake my head, trying to will these thoughts away. This wasn’t any better than killing them outright! I felt sick. Twisted. How could I ever think this way? These were people I was talking about. Real, individual people, with families. With lives. 

Just because I didn’t have one didn’t mean I had to ruin theirs.

I force myself to take a step in the opposite direction, my body visibly shaking from the effort. I’d never been this hungry in my life. It was taking all of my strength just to stand still and not run towards the scent like a madman.

I’m about to take another step when I hear a loud boom echo through the abandoned runway. I turn my head, alarmed at the sound of the gunshot. I hear a yell, and suddenly I see them, their faces streaked with dirt as they frantically rush by an abandoned jet, a horde of zeds behind them, closing in fast.

People. Humans.  _ Food. _

As of my own accord, I start to follow the horde, a small voice at the back of my mind praying that I don’t do anything stupid.

~

_ God, _ I hated hordes.

I was already kind of anxious around groups of 4 or 5 zeds, but  _ hordes? _ I mean, just one walking corpse seeking unrelenting bloodthirst was scary enough. Sure, one shot through the skull and it’s over. The dead were so easy to kill it was almost laughable.

But in numbers, these things posed a very real, very  _ terrifying _ threat. Especially up close and personal. For as long as I can remember, I’ve avoided hordes, preferring to play solo.

And now I was in the middle of one. Great.

There’s dozens of them, the smell of rotting meat practically overwhelming. I wrinkle my nose, my hunger from earlier dissipating as soon as it came. All I felt now was the urge to vomit.

“Fuck,” I curse, almost losing my footing as I’m swept up by the crowd. There’s so many bodies that I can’t even move my arms. I’m panicking, and it’s not doing me much good. Slowly, we move toward the airport, and I feel like I’m going to faint, or throw up, or both.

Inconspicuously, I look around, searching for the humans. Last time I saw them, they’d been running towards the airport terminal, but that had been a few minutes ago.

I sigh. Maybe they’d escaped. Maybe I’d be stuck in this hell forever.

I’m considering cracking my skull against the pavement and ending it once and for all when I look up.

It’s them.

There’s four. They’ve already reached the terminal, padlocking the doors behind them. I sneak a quick glance towards those rusted hinges and know their makeshift fort won’t hold for long. They’re watching the horde approach, probably getting ready for the worst.

I don’t really register how precarious their situation is until that moment.

I crane my neck, inspecting them. There’s two girls, one with brown hair and glasses, the other with strawberry orange hair. The guy standing next to her has a weird two-toned undercut. He looks like an ass, on several levels. And the final guy- I almost choke. Mikasa never told me she had a twin brother. The deadpan stare, the soulless eyes, even the way he stands- a fucking replica. Except- I tilt my head for a better angle- shorter. Like,  _ dwarf _ kind of short. 

But it’s not their appearances I really focus on- it’s their expressions. They all look  _ terrified,  _ even Mikasa 2.0, although he’s better at hiding it. Their clothes are dirty and disheveled, almost looking bad as mine. And  _ I’ve _ been the one constantly surrounded by rotting corpses.

I don’t really know what hit me at that moment- maybe it was their faces, or the way they held their guns so tightly, or the bloodstains on the soles of their boots. But whatever it was, it hit. They were  _ human _ , and they were terrified because of it.

Just like I had been, at one point.

Most of the time, I’d walk away. I’d see someone screaming for help, about to be eaten, and I’d stare at them, watching their grimace of desperation, their eyes flashing with the fear of a cornered animal- and I’d slowly shuffle away. I’d shuffle away like the coward I was, for fear of being spotted as  _ different _ by the other undead. As eatable. So instead, I’d leave them to die. 

Damn it all.

My arm jerked out of its own accord, making an immense effort to shove past the corpse in front of me. It blinks, startled, moaning at me as I force my way through. I push aside another comrade, its sleepy eyes blinking at me in confusion. Slowly, but surely, I go through the crowd, pushing towards the front.

But I’m too late.

Faster than I’d ever seen these things move, they reach the doors, and it only takes a few seconds for the mass of bodies to crash through the glass. I hear a scream, and the group begins running again, straight towards the escalators. 

The horde follows suit, not slowing its pace as the dead crawl up to the second floor, albeit very slowly. The escalators whine in protest as they began to take on the weight of hundreds of bodies. 

Frenziedly, I crawl upwards as fast as I can, trying not to look at the remains of the unfortunate dead trampled by the incoming army of zeds. 

I reach the second floor, and the horde relaxes its grip, giving me a little more personal space. I take the opportunity to inspect my surroundings.

The airport’s second landing was nicer, in a way- faded illustrations could be made out from the peeling walls, the airline’s insignia still emblazoned on the surrounding pillars. At one point, this had probably been one of the state’s most populated airports.

Boy, did that change.

“Stay close!” I hear a voice say, directing my attention to the humans again. The orange-haired girl is facing the horde, trying to shoot off a few bullets, which only succeeds in making them even more feisty. Suddenly, the gun is wrenched from her grip, the short guy whispering something to her, his expression angry. She nods hastily, her lips set into a thin line as she puts the gun back in its holster.

The pair have only paused for a second, and a walker takes the opportunity to make a swipe at them. With breathtaking speed, the raven pierces the zed with the butt of his rifle, and they keep moving. As the horde passes, I look down to see its face completely holed in. A perfect headshot.

We’re now in the main area of the airport, upturned chairs littering the walkways as the group continues to run. Occasional dead stream out of the doors, and the huge space is actually starting to get stuffy. “Uncomfortable” is a mild way of putting how I feel right now.

I spot an empty hatch near the end of the massive room, and I instantly recognize what it is. It’s the place where passengers are unloaded from a landed plane. The plane, however, is nowhere to be found, letting in daylight stream through the abandoned hatch.

In other words, an escape route. I can tell the group’s spotted it too, their pace increasing. I even see the orange-haired girl crack a smile.

And that’s when it all goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wrote this fic back in 2017, but I completely forgot about it. I have a lot of unfinished fics I've abandoned, but I wanted to give this one a chance. I might post more chapters depending if anyone likes it. My writing style has changed a bit since then, but I'll try to make the transition as smooth as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

I had noticed the sagging ceiling the first moment I was pushed into the airport. Years of decay and deterioration had weakened the supporting pillars to the point where I didn’t know how they were still standing. Evidence of a severe plane crash or something or other in the airport had been obvious from the wide gashes along the walls, and I could hear wood creaking silently in the stillborn air.

But of course, I hadn’t really thought of it. Until now.

It’s as if the entire world exploded. The ceiling cracked and moaned louder than all of the corpses put together, and I saw the group hesitate for a second. Realization dawned on their faces, their legs pumping them even faster, but it was too little, too late. 

Slabs of concrete hit the floor with a massive  _ thud _ as my vision was blocked off by the rising dust. I heard a yell, and then everything went black.

~

The sudden absence of light renders me completely blind, and I stand still, afraid of walking into something without me knowing. It takes a bit, but my eyes slowly adjust to the dim space. The horde behind me slows, no longer bloodthirsty, no longer dangerous. At least, not to me.

I shuffle forward, the air an eerie silence. My boots squish on something, and I look down to see the floor slick with blood. I immediately crouch, panic setting in as I dip one of my fingers in and smell it.

Relief. It reeks of corpses long dead- it wasn’t them. Didn't smell of human. Probably some zeds that got in the way of the ceiling’s collapse.

I pause then. Why was I relieved? I didn’t even know who these people were. Why was I concerned about them? I don’t know. I didn’t know, but I wasn't turning back on my decision earlier outside the airport.

I didn’t want to be a coward anymore.

During my inspection, the other dead have spread out, and the room has become less suffocating. But all that is on my mind is the humans. Did they survive the fall? Did they make it out alive? Or-

A sound startles me out of my thoughts as I turn my head towards its source. I listen, waiting. A grunt. Then the sound of pebbles being scattered about. It was either a zed or...

I resolve to find out. I clamber over, legs weary as I scale down the mountain of rubble. I start to make out a form, keeled over near some rocks. I approach from behind, unsure if it's dead or not.

I make out an undercut, bangs lining his face like curtains, and know it's him even before I can see his face. He's breathing hard, his gun pulled close to him as he grips his shoulder, which is bleeding profusely. His side is also torn open, blood slowly pooling on the concrete. 

He was probably caught in the fall, and from the looks of it, injured. Badly. I’m wondering how he’s still alive at this point. The guy must be made of steel.

Suddenly, I turn to see a small group of dead come shuffling his direction, their gait slow enough to assume that they hadn't seen him yet.  _ Yet _ being the key word here.

A split second. All it takes is a split second, and I'm scrambling to get near him, to warn him, to do  _ something. _ Before he can react, I've crawled so close to him I can make out his irises. He reaches for the gun, probably about to kill me. I hastily put a finger to my lips, my eyes desperate as I convey a silent message to get him to stop.

He hesitates, and that's all I need. I clamber on top of him, making eye contact the whole time. His movements are weak, but I know he could kill me if he wanted to. He's still suspicious, still clutched on his gun, but I ignore him.

I quickly notice the fresh stains on my clothes- the blood of the undead- and a bulb lights up in my head. Slowly, I take a big handful of the stuff, making sure to get some innards too while I was it, and slowly start to spread it over him. He flinches, his gun still aimed at my head, but he surprisingly doesn’t blow my brains out. I take it as a sign to continue. Slowly, I knead the blood onto his skin, his clothes- anything to mask the scent of human. I avoid his injuries, for fear of infection.

It takes a minute, but after I’m done, I can’t smell him at all. His scent is completely gone. He’d seem like any ordinary walker to me if I was relying on smell. I examine my handiwork, pleased. He's still staring at me.

Now, here comes the hard part. I move to get closer when he presses the gun against my forehead, his breathing coming in short gasps.

“Try anything, and you're dead,” he grunts, and I gently nod as I embrace him, wrapping my body around his. I bury my face in his neck, hoping my scent will be enough to mask his own. 

I really try to focus on the sound of the nearing walkers, or focus on his wounds, or anything, but I focus on him instead. He’s  _ warm. _ I hadn’t felt warmth in... The point is, he’s safe, so long as I’m close enough.

I try not to think about how awkward this seems and focus on the sound of the nearing walkers.

If I had breath, I would've probably held it in anticipation. The moans became louder, and I dared not to move. I can feel him go completely still, his heartbeat pounding at an erratic pace.

Most of them walk by, and I’m relaxing when one of them stops, tilts their head at us, its nose flaring as it picks up our scent. My muscles tighten, my grip not loosening on him. If it came near, I’d probably be able to fight it off, but it’d draw attention from the other walkers.

In other words, this was it. This was the deciding moment.

After a few seconds, it takes a step forward, and before I can react, it takes another, away from us. The moment passes, and the walker is gone, seemingly not finding anything of interest.

It's quiet.

I struggle to find more signs of life, but a brief glance tells me all I need to know. We are alone.

I focus back on him, examining the deep cut on his shoulder. I attempt to touch it, and he immediately recoils, his gun angled at my face.

“Leave,” he hisses, but he can’t hide the pain that he’s in. His hand is shaking slightly, and I see beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He’s lost a lot of blood, and I’m starting to get alarmed.

“I’m trying to help you, dumbass,” I reply, my voice scratchy from lack of use. His eyes widen slightly, as if still in shock that I have intelligence.

Wow, thanks. Nice to know I’m appreciated. 

“Come on.” 

I urge him to his feet, propping my left arm under his right as I take on some of his weight. I can tell he’s not happy about it, but for now it’ll have to do. I take a quick look around, sniffing the air for any nearby undead. He gives me a look, and I ignore him.

We shuffle away from the rubble, trying to put as much distance as possible between it and us. I haven’t done physical exertion in what feels like forever, so even supporting half of his weight is making it hard to walk. I sneak a glance at him, his eyes set in concentration as he takes one step in front of the other. The sight gives me a pang of sadness.

It’s not too long before I spot the rest of the horde, and I veer us a sharp left to avoid the crowd. We might be safe for now, given all the gunk I covered him in, but there was no telling when the smell of his blood would overpower my own scent.

It was too risky, and I was not feeling lucky today.

It’s painfully,  _ mind-numbingly _ slow progress, but we are finally able to reach an abandoned room, sectioned off from the terminal. It looks to be a staff room- file cabinets line the walls, shelves stocked with airline data and arrival times. The room looks surprisingly neat for the apocalypse- papers are still in alphabetical order, untouched aside from a thin layer of dust. Oddly enough, all of the computers are broken- their screens shattered, consoles broken into pieces. The actions look like they were done on purpose, which I find strange.

“I need to go back.”

I turn to see him resting on one of the empty chairs, his hands on his knees. From the short time we’ve been here, he’s dressed the wound on his shoulder and on his side, but he’s still struggling to breathe. His left arm doesn’t look too great either.

Poor guy. It probably sucks to be human.

“In that condition? Hell no.”

“I’m grateful-” he pauses, then, “I’m grateful for what you did, but I need to go back. I can’t just leave my people behind.”

I snort, and he glares at me. “If you go back, what good would that do? In this condition, you’d only make things worse for them. Drag them down, make their escape that much more difficult.”

_ Fuck. _ I realize I’ve said something horrible, but it’s too late. I wait for him to explode, to break down and sob, or do any normal human being would do in this situation. 

But he doesn’t do any of that. He looks away, actually looking like he’s contemplating what I said.

“Fine.”

_ Huh. _ Did I register that correctly?   
  


“I’ll stay until I can walk on my own.  _ Then _ I will go.”

Hey, at least that was  _ something. _ I probably put off his death that much longer. The moment I think it, I regret it instantly. I needed to stop thinking like this- not everyone ended up dead like me.

Satisfied with his response, I turn back to the computers, examining them. They intrigue me, for some reason. Why would someone deliberately smash them to pieces? Without the Internet, these were almost useless, unless there was something else...  _ Unless- _

“What are you?”

I hesitate at the question, not bothering to turn around. My hands are hovering over a keyboard, the pads of my fingers briefly landing on the keys. Faintly, I can feel the outline of the letters, their edges rough.

_ What was I? _

Ever since I’d been conscious in this whole damn mess, that was the question that haunted me. What was I, really? Was I dead? My body definitely said so. But what about my mind? My consciousness, still intact? What about the strength in my joints, my ability to speak? I was a freak. I knew that much. I didn’t fit in, no matter how you looked at it. I wasn’t alive, but I wasn’t completely dead either.

_ What was wrong with me? _

“I don’t know,” I replied simply, not bothering to look at his reaction. “But what I  _ do _ know,” I add, my grip tightening on the table, “is that I am  _ not _ your enemy.”

Suddenly, I hear a chair violently overturned, and his arm snakes around my throat, a blade attached to his fingers.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” His grip tightens, and I don’t bother to fight him. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my ear. “You’re a monster. Just like the rest of them.”

“I’m not,” I say, but my heart pangs. Was I, really? A  _ monster? _

“You sure?” He says, his voice drawling. “Because I saw the way you act around the others. You’re just like a walker. How can I trust that you won’t kill me?”

I close my eyes, thinking deeply about my answer.

“Well, how could you trust a human?” I ask, and I feel his breath pause. “A walker is no less worse than a human being. Humans kill too. And I could’ve let you die, but I didn’t. I chose to save you. That’s all.”

For a few seconds, there’s no movement. It’s just me, him, and the blade around my throat. I pause, waiting for him to let me go. Is he really going to kill me? Is he-  _ am I going to die? _ The thought hits me so suddenly my brain short-circuits. If that blade hit its target, I’d be gone. Gone for good, this time. The thought scares me, much more than I had thought it would.

His arm loosens, and my question is answered. I look back to see him stalking away, his pace exhausted as he goes back to his chair.

“Tonight.”

“What?” I ask.

He peers up at me through his hands, his face striking in the dim light. “I will recover, and tonight, I will leave.”

I see something flash through his eyes, but it’s gone just as soon as it arrived.

“And you will come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the eye glint Levi got when Eren said he'd kill all the titans in the holding cell? THAT glint. hehe


	3. Chapter 3

“What are you doing?”

  
  
It’s been about two hours that we’ve been holed up in here.

He healed up a while ago, or so he says- I’m pretty sure he’s still seriously injured, but he’s trying to hide it. His stubbornness reminds me a bit of Mikasa- how she never listened to other people telling her she couldn’t do something. That’s probably why she was so successful- she never heard those people telling her she would fail.

I miss her, a lot. I wonder if she’s still alive. Armin too. I wonder where they are now. If they’re alive or not. If they-

No. I cut off that train of thought. I couldn’t think about that now. Not now. Tearing myself up over guesses, over half-hearted hypotheses, wasn’t going to help any.

At his request, I’ve scavenged the room and we’ve counted up our bounty: two rusty screwdrivers, four expired granola bars, some half-empty water bottles, a baseball bat, and one shitty pair of scissors. We’d also found a very basic first-aid kit, which helped to treat his injuries, albeit mildly. He still needed some serious medical care, and I didn’t know shit about stitching wounds.

We could’ve gone to find his friends by now, but one peek outside the door and I thought better of it. The horde had increased in size, and it didn’t look like we were going to make it out alive if we left now. Besides, since the room was so far off from the main entrance, it was kind of a waste not to use it as a temporary shelter.

During our stay, he’d told me his name per my curiosity- Levi. Simple, yet effective. I liked it. Not like I was going to say it out loud to the guy. That’d be creepy as hell. I gave him mine too, although he didn’t ask for it.

He’d asked me some questions- did I need to eat like the others? Could I run? How many people had I killed? I’d answered no to that last question. A somewhat honest answer. Sure, I hadn’t killed anyone. My moral compass was still intact. But I wasn’t completely off the hook either. I mean, I ate off of people’s dead bodies, for Christ’s sake.

I’ve just been through the third filing cabinet, searching for clues about the airport and, more specifically, the smashed consoles. I had been at it for a while now, and I could feel Levi watching my progress, although he hadn’t said anything, occasionally rifling through his pack and sharpening his knife. Until now, that is.

“What. Are you doing?” He asks again, his tone now more impatient.

“Finding answers,” I say, flipping through the documents of one of the airport employees. Health records, resumé, social security information... I slam the file shut, moving on to the next one. The tab reads:  _ Administration Records, File 013. _

I’m expecting him to make a noise of agreement and fall silent again, but I’m hit with another question. “To what?”

“To those.” I motion to the wreckage.

My finger moves under the bolded title.  _ Airline Engineering Citations, March 10th-July 14th. _ I skim the lines, my eyes flitting from word to word.  _ Miscalculation... air thrusters... parachute corrections... _

“Why?”

I shrug, still focused on the folder I’m holding. The next page is  _ Monetary Records _ , the one after that titled  _ Clientele Feedback. _ I close the file, sighing. I’m not getting anywhere with this. 

I shove it back in the file cabinet, about to close it when something catches my eye.

“Hey, Levi, come look at this for a second.”

To my surprise, he stands up and heads over to where I’m squinting. He peers in the file cabinet, his brow furrowing. “What is it?”

“Look here,” I say, nudging the spot my finger. “There’s a discoloration. Right here- see?”

“Yeah, I see it,” he says, glancing up at me. “So?”

“Well, I-” I hesitate, my face heating from embarrassment. Oh, well. Too late to turn back now.

“Well, me and my dad used to watch these crime scene shows, where they’d investigate alleged murderers and all that.” I glanced at him, making sure he was still listening.

He quirks an eyebrow, but lets me continue.

“Well, when they wanted to hide secret documents or whatever, the criminals would hide them in the most obvious of places- like this file cabinet here.” I pat the cabinet almost affectionately. “Except, they’d alter the cabinet to have a secret storage space, and the cops wouldn’t be the wiser.”

There’s silence, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I look up to see him eyeing the cabinet, as if actually taking my suggestion seriously.

“So, what you’re saying,” he says, coolly, calmly. “Is that, in your search for this so-called ‘mystery’ document, which might not even exist, you’ve deduced that it’s hidden in a secret slot in this file cabinet, because it’s a different color?”

Now that he says it, it sounds kind of ridiculous. But I was never one to back down from a challenge.

I gulp. “Precisely.”

He stares at me for a second, and I’m waiting for him to laugh. Just double over and laugh, or insult me, or roll his eyes, or do anything a normal person would do at my stupidity. But instead of doing all that, he walks back to his chair and starts sharpening his knife again.

Huh. Figures. I’m surprised he even came over to listen.

Turning back to the cabinet, I further examine the spot I had pointed to earlier. The metal looks altered in some way- don’t ask me how, but I have a feeling it’s not supposed to be like that. I close the first shelf, and open the second, looking underneath. Another discoloration. This was getting weird.

I dig my hand under it, feeling for a groove or indentation. Finding none, I slam the shelf with a little bit more force than necessary, exasperated. Something in the cabinet rattles, and is still, but I’ve heard it. Something’s there.

I glance at Levi, and he’s taken notice too, eyeing the cabinet.

“Let me see that knife,” I say, hand outstretched. I wait, my fingers grabbing at nothing. I twirl them a bit, looking to him. He just gives me a cool stare.

Oh, great. This again. “Let me see it,” I say, a little more forcefully this time.

“No.” He says, and by the tone of voice he uses, I can tell his decision’s final. Damn.

Was I really that untrustworthy? I mean, really. What could an 18-year-old half-dead mutant do? Whatever. I’d find another way.

I grab all of the folders and sloppily throw them in a corner, papers flying left and right as I empty the cabinet. I feel like I’m possessed- I can’t empty it fast enough.

When it’s empty, I open the 2nd drawer again- there. An indentation so small I missed it with all of the papers in the way.

I turn around, spotting a ruler underneath the counter. I crazily grab for it, then turn back to the cabinet. I wedge it in between the shelf and the bottom, and turn. The cabinet groans awkwardly, and I turn harder, pulling out the insides like I’m doing surgery. Ha.

Finally, I coax it open, and I pop it open to see-

A hidden storage space. With nothing in it.

My hand searches every nook and cranny, but in my heart I already know it’s empty. I can tell the disappointment is evident on my face from the way Levi relaxes, his gaze once again uninterested as it floats away towards something else.

God. I took so much damn time to open that piece of crap, to find _nothing?_ ** _Nothing?_** This was fucked up. So fucked up. I’m so angry I’m starting to see red. All I register is my foot making contact with something, a loud crash, and Levi standing up so fast I would’ve never guessed he was injured.

“What did you do?” He hisses, pointing a gun at my head as I slowly start to comprehend what I’ve done wrong. I hear moans coming from the other side of the door, and realize the crash of the cabinet kind of gave our location away. Oops.

“Fuck, sorry-” I start to say, but suddenly a flash of red on the floor catches my eye. I pounce on it, my hands tugging at the small envelope that’s slipped out of the fallen shelf. Probably loosened once the cabinet hit the floor.

Levi rushes to his pack, swiftly locking it into place as he reloads his gun. “We can’t stay here,” he says, and my mind unconsciously agrees as I’m tearing open the file, enclosed with red stamping.

CONFIDENTIAL, it reads, and that gives me more than enough confirmation that this is what I’m looking for.

I skim, trying not to soil the paper as I whisper the words.

“Airline transmission lines... emergency evacuation... government authorization... unidentified sender... confidential identities stored in database-”

“We need to go!” Levi says, and I’m yanked by the arm towards the door. “Come on!”

I nod hastily, stuffing the papers into my worn jacket as I run with him. I’m about to open it when I hear gunshots. There’s scuffling, and yells. Familiar yells.

Before I can turn to him, Levi’s already out the door, gunning down some zeds. I sigh, but follow. The guy was crazy, but in times like these, crazy was a good thing.

“Petra!” He yells, and a group of humans slow down in front of us. The orange-haired girl turns, her face streaked with tears as she sees him. She’s smiling so wide I feel like her face is gonna break. She makes a dash for him, arms open.

Suddenly, around the corner, another walker shuffles out, catching us off guard. He’s headed straight for Levi- and he’s not paying any attention. I need to do something. It lunges, and the sound of flesh tearing off is the only thing I hear.

Levi... wait, did he-?

No, suddenly, he’s hovering over me, his usual stoic face breaking as I see- concern? Why is he concerned? He’s the one that-

Wait, my arm. It doesn’t feel right.

I move my right arm, confused. It feels so heavy, like I’m attached to a nine iron. I attempt to flex my fingers, and they barely move, twitching slightly. I’m starting to panic until I see a huge gaping wound on the skin right above my elbow. 

Oh, thank God. I’d been able to block the walker with my arm, just in time.

Levi’s pulling me up by my only working arm, and I’m struggling to keep up with gravity. My head’s swirling, and I feel nauseous. My arm feels like it’s on a sedative- I can’t feel it at all. It scares me to death, but I manage to stand up, and by then Levi’s group has caught up already.

“Who’s this?” Someone says, and I slowly turn my head to see a blurred face with a two-toned undercut. I recognize him as that one guy from earlier, the one resembling a horse. For a split second, his face is in focus, but just as soon, the world’s swiveling again, and I feel my grip tighten on Levi.

“He saved me,” I hear Levi say, but my ears are ringing, so I can barely make it out. “I’m bringing him.”

“He’s bit,” the same guy says, and I fuzzily register him gesturing at me. “It’s no use.”

I feel Levi pause, his breathing coming in slow, deliberate strokes. Then- “I’m bringing him, and that’s final.”

“Levi...” and this time, it’s the orange-haired girl- Petra, I think. “He doesn’t look right. His skin is deathly pale, and he looks like he has a fever. We can’t afford to-”

“Don’t.” Levi says, and by this point I’m fully leaning against him. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s get out of here before more come.”

“You heard the man!” Another guy points out, and we’re on our way. The sound of knives clinking against each other fills up the silence, and I make out the forms of more dead off in the distance. I’m struggling to keep up with their pace, my legs not fully functioning. God, I’m so tired.

“Can you walk?” He whispers to me, and I lazily nod my head. I pick up the pace, and suddenly the world is tumbling around me, my head almost hitting the floor before Levi catches me just in time.

“Here, I got him.” I hear a voice say, and suddenly I’m being hoisted over a shoulder, my legs losing contact with the ground. There’s more gunshots, and suddenly I’m hit with sunlight. We’re outside.

I can’t keep up much longer. I’m tired, so tired... And hungry. I’m starving.

I feel the slam of a vehicle, the squeal of wheels on cement, and we’re moving.

I smell something familiar, and I turn my head to the side to see Levi’s form next to me. Comforted, I lean back, closing my eyes.

Tired...

Then darkness.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you'd like more. Sorry about these cliffhangers, these are still the original chapters. I might revise them one day, but for now I'll keep as is for sake of content.


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